In a diamond-encrusted cavern-like showroom, in the center of empty space, standing on an exploding-star mosaic, I was there, I'm still there, the doors are locked.

A Death-Squad Leader in a speaker-truck parked out front on Cheapside, he rants into his microphone: "Kit Kat 66! See him die! The traitor had the gall to say that Universe City was not The World! Kit Kat 66! In a gas chamber! You're next!"

I'm still standing there watching white light in the gloom when a movie star, or at least she looks like a movie star, stands in a doorway half-dressed. She gestures, I approach. She says, "I'm illusion, Kit Kat 66. I'm made of light. Watch!" The words "We love you" and "We're sorry" appear in the air between the movie star and myself. I smile, hang my head, and wait.

A voice from inside the doorway: "Come here, Kit!" She laughs. "Come quick!" I go inside, see her sprawled on a bed. "Illusion?" I ask. "Real!" she says. "Kiss me!" she says.

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